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Looking for a boyfriend tbh (Open to rp😊)

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2021-06-10 12:50:13

    Harry tapped the Instagram filter and made a duck face.

    “WHAT GAY COMBO ARE YOU?” the app blared, before flipping through two sets of stereotypical descriptors.

    The 22 year old twink had laughed at some of the improbable combos that had been ascribed to his friends on his feed and had to give it a try. What would Harry get? Himbo e-boy? Soft jock? Dom twink?

    Flick, flick, flick.

    “HIPSTER-DILF,” the app read.

    The twink practically howled in response.

    “OMG!” he yelled, his phone’s camera still recording.

    It was then that Harry saw how he looked on the phone’s screen. The digital version of himself was changing. Tattoos were crawling over his arms and hand as dark swaths of hair erupted in furry fields on his avatar’s chest.

    “Oooo Zaddy!” Harry chuckled at this, in awe of the app’s photo-manipulating software. The miniature version of himself packed on muscle and years, growing taller and beefier. His pecs grew meaty as his blonde hair turned black, and then salt and pepper. And that shaggy beard! OMG, hi-LAR-ious!

    Could you even imagine? Harry thought. All that hair- ick!

    A pair of silver rings formed on Harry’s screen, and an earring. A golden knit cap wrapped itself around his digital head.

    Honestly, this ridiculous pairing was…. actually super hot. Harry gave a couple of his trademark poses and watched his screen-bound, rapidly butch-er self do the same.

    The Hipster-DILF looked like he was trying so hard, and yet knew he was sexy enough that he didn’t have to try at all. It was all so… performative, and ironic, and silly, and… really hot. Seeing that beefcake act like he was some too-hip-for-you twenty-something who never grew up, who would pick you up at the gym, but then rail you to the sounds of his vinyl connection in his loft apartment… He could almost remember the sounds of that Thelonius Monk record… or the taste of his pre-workout powder…

    Harry shook his head and looked down at his hairless, 22-year old frame, a tight pink and white tank top clinging to his go-go boy body. Who the fuck was Thelonius Monk? And as if he’d act like some fucking gym rat!

    He looked back at the screen, where a little loop of the Hipster-DILF posing and duck-face-ing played over and over. It was so… not him. This was funny, right?

    “OMG CLOCKED!” he tapped out and then paused. His thumb hovered over the “POST” button.

    He clicked.

    The sound of drums.

    That solo.

    Fuck, Harry thought, Goddamn Kenny Clarke. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.

    He pawed idly at his hairy pec.

    Chest day today, he thought.

    He looked up from his phone and grinned into the mirror.

    His bearded face grinned back, below a dark mustard knit hat. He stretched, eyeing his massive body. Salt-and-pepper hairs all over caught his eye. His back was a little tight, but for pushing 40, he was looking fucking hot.

    Harry’s eyes flicked back to his phone. Oh right. Some app.

    “WHAT GAY COMBO ARE YOU?”

    A hilariously young and hairless version of himself danced in a loop, with the words “BITCHY TWINK” floating above. He smirked in spite of himself at the broad, low-hanging fruit that passed for humor these days. Everyone boiled down to a word or two, reduced to a basic 2D stereotype. Still, picturing himself as some vapid, tiny plastic-y gayboi was funny, in an ironic sort of way.

    Could you even imagine? Harry thought, walking into the kitchen of his loft to grab a protein bar.

    “LOL,” he said in a fake, high-pitched voice, as the jazz hummed along.

    immaculatetfs

    Dude you do such a great job! I thought of another idea for a story. What if a young guy in his 20’s buys his first house in a community that only has middle aged guys with dad bods. They have a party to welcome him into the neighborhood and turn him into a middle aged guy with a dad bod who tells corny dad jokes.

    Pop-Corn

    Mario kicked up his feet onto his brand new coffee table, finally able to relax after a long, full day of moving. It had been a miracle, finding a house so cheap in such a nice area, with takeaways and shops and a park in walking distance. It was too good to be true, he had thought, but here he was, a young, attractive bachelor in a new house, gone farther than he had ever thought possible. His mind drifted off, thinking of all the pussy he would get on this very couch......

    A sharp nock on the door shattered his daydreaming. Neighbors perhaps? In shows that was always what happened to people just after moving in, Mario thought. He sighed, put on his best smile and went to answer. He was greeted by two men. They were both older, maybe in their 40′s, and both tall and thick. It was evident that under a layer of hid an abundance of hard muscle. The man to the right had close-cropped cut, sparse black hair all over the tan skin of his forearms. He sported beautifully groomed stubble across his face, giving him a handsomeness that even Mario envied. The other had auburn red hair, closely shaven on his head, and wore large rimmed glasses, though, the most prominent part of his face was the thick pornstache on his upper-lip like a fat caterpillar .He was held a cute wicker basket filled with goodies. “Hey neighbor” the man to the right said. “We saw that you were moving in and wanted to make you feel at home in our community. I’m Michael and this is my husband Henry.

    “Hey” the ginger said in a deep, gruff voice, nodding at Mario. “This is for you”, he passed the basket over, a kind smile on his lips.

    Mario thanked the man and took the basket. It smelt of chocolate and vanilla, and he could see a plethora of fresh, warm baked goods inside it.

    “We’re having a party later tonight, ‘starts at 10. All the guys in our neighborhood will be there, we could introduce you?”

    Mario thought about Michaels offer, he didn't want to get on the wrong foot with his neighbors, especially not ones that seemed so nice.

    “Yeah, I should be able to come” He said to the older men, trying to reflect their sincerity.

    “Great! We live at the house just opposite yours. See you then!” said Michael, waving. 

    Just as they were walking away Mario thought he saw Henry wink to him, before whispering something to Michael, making his husband chuckle.

    Mario returned to his couch, slumping into the same position he had been in before. He checked his phone, it was 6:30. He had just enough time to have a nap then have food before the party. Maybe there’d be some hot chicks at the party? he thought as he dozed off.

    He woke up at 10:38. 

    Mario cursed his luck, what were his new neighbors going to think of him! He quickly ran to put on some clothes and did a quick touchup on his bed-head in the bathroom, before rushing to the door. The smell of vanilla that emitted from the basket by the door gave him pause. He realized how famished he was, and reached down and picked out the largest piece of brownie he saw. then another for good measure. He messily jammed them into him, gooey sweet goodness filling his mouth as he chewed. With a little moan of pleasure, he swallowed. Feeling better, he brushed crumbs off his dress-shirt and exited his house. He could hear the bass from the house across the street even from across the road. After another check of his phone and saw it was 11, he cursed himself again and quickly hurried over. It took two knocks before Henry opened the door, rosy checked, half naked and holding a beer.

    “Marioooo! I was beginning to think you wouldn't come! I see you've enjoyed my cooking” Her gave the younger man a knowing wink as Mario bashfully wiped the crumbs from his lips. The red giant firmly patted him on the shoulder and gently directed him inside, into the living room. Music was thumping, and, to Mario’s surprise, there were only men here, 30-or-so midddle-aged dads. Not only that, but they were all in the same, revealing attire as Henry had. The air was thick with the musky smells that would naturally come from so many large naked bodies, all together. He could see Michael in the kitchen, making drinks wearing nothing but a speedo while chatting up a sliver-haired beast in leather pants

    Mario was perplexed and disgusted. this was at most definitely not what he had envisioned, had be accidentally moved into some nudist sex community? He was just about to turn around to leave as Henry lightly grabbed his shoulders. “Don't you love this? It’s just men being men here.” He smiled warmly down at the younger man, a smile that you couldn't help just smiling back to. The thick smell of the place was penetrating Mario’s brain, the smog rewiring his sexuality and removing his inhibitions. Every second he spent in the loud, musky, thumping room he wanted to stay more and more. Soon, the sight of big hairy bears all together that he was first been disgusted by was making him painfully erect. “Say, little lad, Want a beer? Ale? Whiskey?” Henry asked, but before Mario could form a reply he was being gently led over to Michael. As he got closer, Mario saw that his body was shiny and slick with some oil, giving off a strong, earthy smell that Mario loved. When he saw him, Michael smiled. “You finally came!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been keeping this whiskey here just for you” he produced a small bottle, brown glass with a darker brown label that read ‘Daddy Bear Whiskey’. He handed it to Mario, who gave it a cautionary glance “Dont be shy! Its our favorite, isn't it honey?” Michael said to his husband, before giving him a long, sloppy kiss. Mario felt saliva fill his mouth at the arousing scene. Before he knew what he was doing, he had the bottle to his mouth. It was unlike any whiskey he had drank before, thick and creamy with an overwhelmingly strong smokiness filling his entire body, making his eyes water as he gulped. soon, the bottle was empty. The second he put the bottle back down he felt a strange fullness in his stomach. He suddenly realized that everyone was looking at him. 

    As if on autopilot, he gavehis signature cocky smile, usually reserved for hot babes, and stripped his shirt off, revealing to the party-goers his lithe young pale chest. Henry, his face wet with saliva, took the young man into a warm embrace, strong thick arms and chest covered with bristles of hair, eminating a faint smell of pine and a strong smell of man, a scent that sent Mario into a daze. Then, he felt the ginger’s strong, prickly mouth hit his. they were soon passionately exploring the wet, warm insides of each other's mouths.

    Mario was so lost in the experience that he didn't notice what drinking the whiskey was doing to his body. 

    His flat, hard stomach expanded, layers of fat pushing out of his expanding gut like he was a balloon being blown up. Dark, long hairs pushed out all over his chest, deep forests emerging between his thick pecs and down in a path to his deep belly-button.

    through this, nothing mattered to Mario but his neighbor's scratchy, masculine lips, That is, until he felt his jeans being firmly tugged off. He looked behind him to see a gloriously naked Michael, a devious look in his eyes and his slippery cock dripping with pre. “you'll be a good boy for your daddies won’t you? "he said, another tug on his underwear revealing Marios hairless, bare, perfect ass to the crowd of daddies that had gathered to watch the show, many masiging the tents in thier pants. “Its been so long since we’ve had anyone new in our community” Michael squatted down, and began to lovingly rim Mario. Everywhere his wet, talented tongue passed over, new hairs sprouted and old ones grew long and unkempt, while fat and muscle surged out, transforming his perky muscle ass into two fat round hairy peaks. Michael gave Mario’s new daddy ass a slap, then stood up and began working his thick, beer-can cock into Mario's’ tight pink hole. The younger man closed his eyes and moaned, lost in the ecstasy of being filled with such a man, but his moans soon stopped when the Henry’s fiery hot red member found its way into Mario’s grateful mouth. It tasted like musk and salt and it was all that Mario had ever wanted. With each thrust into his greedy mouth and tight hole Mario’s body began to change further. His thighs surged out to match his plumped up ass, while his feet became larger, dirt staining them as if they had been used for years of hard, manual work. Mario's arms already big arms became thicker, filling further with fat and muscle, hair growing wildly across his forearms. His face was next, jaw sharpening before being smothered by the fat and jowls of an older man. Mario’s Carefully styled hair pulled back into his head, leaving a bald scalp, shining in the party lights. Thick black hair in turn pushed out from his chin and lip, replacing the hair that had abandoned his head with enviable goatee. and thus, was completed the the daddyfication of Mario. He was entirely unrecognizable to who he had been, but nobody could doubt that he was a fine looking old man.

    “I'm going to cum daddy” He heard Michael say between labored breaths. “Me too babe, you wanna cum together?” Before Michael could agree, Mario felt the white hot cum of his daddies spurt into him from both ends, pushing him over the edge.

    The organism rocked over his entire body, waves of pleasure cascading over him like a tsunami. what his new, thicker cock squirted out not only his seed, but the memories of past Mario. The Young man who had just moved into his first house, who had wanted a girlfriend, who was looking to get into finance, all of that was gone. It was replaced with memories of the neighborhood, of long musky nights with the couple next door, of hot parties with the other daddies every night and spending the mornings in bed making up new dad jokes.

     Mario wouldn't have it any other way.

    He collapsed onto the couch, sandwiched between Mike and Henry’s sweaty, panting bodies, around him the other daddies of the neighborhood was a drunken mixture of lust and laughter.

    “Hey, what did Baby Corn say to Mama Corn?" Mario said

    Michael rolled his eyes” I don't know Mario, what did Baby Corn say to Mama Corn?”

    "Where's Pop Corn?”

    Slow Down

    Ten years after graduating and being instantly promoted to the boss of the local water resource management facility, Giles still did most of the work he didn’t have to do because he had his assistants himself. And he would have to lie if he said he was happy. His whole life was about filling out paper work that he barely saw his family during the week. And he hated it.

    “I don’t get, why you’re still doing so many things by yourself”, his colleague and friend David said as they came back into their shared office after a business meeting. “You could have so much free time, Giles – and maybe some fun with that bombshell you hired last week.” Giles could hear the saliva already dropping out of David’s mouth as he mentioned the new accountant, Laura Fawcett. She was working very hard and was very nice to talk too.

    “I’m married, David”, Giles said dryly and opened the door to their office. “Wouldn’t be a problem to me – I mean, look at her b-”, David continued talking and was gesticulating the curves of Miss Fawcett as Giles decided it was time for a break.

    “Alright, I’m taking a break, see you at 3 pm. Remember calling Wodrow & Malkins for the new pipes”, Giles said, grabbed his coat and shut the door after he left the room.

    Giles took a walk through the corridor towards the cafeteria and enjoyed the silence. Of course, David was one of his best friends and usually he worked very hard. However, even after all those years together… especially after the started sharing an office… Only a few of his coworkers were around, most of them were in their offices after their lunch break. He did not notice where he was going, but after a few minutes suddenly stopped. Something was whispering his name. He must be hallucinating. Or someone tried to prank him. No, he said to himself. This wasn’t Highschool anymore. He was the boss. They wouldn’t dare trying something like this. Giles continued his way to the cafeteria, hoping he could grab some wraps or something else, but then he heard the voice again.

    Giles.

    It was one of his biggest fears after he saw a horror movie with a voice coming out of the walls, killing the inhabitants of the building one by one. But this was not a damn movie, it was his office building and nothing was inside these walls except steel beams and concrete. Giles tried to ignore the voice… she sounded quite nice. Sweet and lovely. He needed to know where this wonderful voice was coming from.

    After a few minutes of chasing the voice through the building, he found himself in the basement next to the locker room of the drivers and opened the door where he thought the voice was coming from. And as Giles stepped into the room, he was surprised seeing an old, big and very valuable mirror standing in the middle of the room. What this thing was doing here? Especially in the room that was flooded by old drains every few months?

    Carefully Giles came closer and looked at the inscription above the mirror, but he couldn’t identify any words. Finally, he wanted to look into the mirror and stepped right before it. Instead of seeing his slim, lanky self it was completely empty.

    I know what you want.

    The voice was talking to him again. So sweet, so lovely. Giles felt relaxed as he came closer to the mirror.

    Everyone’s wanting you to work harder. Everyone’s trying to push you around. You want a quiet life, without people nagging you, Giles, don’t you?

    Giles felt understood. „Y-yeah“, he stuttered. No more business meetings. No one talking to him about his way of working. A life full of happiness. That’s what he wanted. The surface of the mirror broke and white ropes wrapped themselves around Giles’ waist and dragged him into the mirror.

    Giles felt sick as he woke up. Everything hurt. An earth smell hit his nose. A cold shiver ran down his back: he was naked. As fast as possible, he searched for some clothes to wear. After a few seconds another smell hit him – a musky, irresistible, strong smell that made Giles‘ cock twitch. He took a deep sniff. Almost instantly he had a raging hard on and was totally lost in this musky piece of cloth.

    Furiously he began jacking off – not noticing that the little blonde stubble in his face was growing longer. He licked his lips. God, the feeling of the hair with his tongue was too much to handle. Coarse hair was pushing out of his face, while he was going up and down his shaft. Every thin blonde hair on his head twisted and turned and turned into a dark brown. Hair spilled down his scalp until it reached his trembling shoulders. With every heartbeat, his cock began to grow in length and girth until it was as thick as a soda can and reached into his bushy new beard. He felt his balls churning with seed that wanted to be free.

    The pungent smell that emanated from his cock tip was so irresistible that Giles took it in his mouth. He was circling his still growing mushroom tip. With each lick, his body began to swell. His legs lengthened, pushing him away from the wall before him. His hands grew thick and calloused. His whole body was itching like crazy but Giles’ mind was far away from his changing body. Like little needles, curly dark hair was sprouting over his body. Swirling around his nipples and growing thick on his balls. A few seconds later, his crack was a forest of dark hair. Curly tufts of hairs filled his armpits and crotch. Giles breathed in deeply and moaned.

    For a brief second Giles’s eyes shot open, realizing what he was doing, what was happening to him. Then he felt a huge pressure balls and with guttural gurgling his cock shot huge amounts of cum into Giles’ open mouth. With every shot going down his throat, his body began to bloat, losing his lean stature and packing on layers of muscle and fat. His butt swelled to enormous proportions to fit the underwear that he was holding. Legs and arms pushing aside from each other as the were filled bit by bit to become real man’s legs.

    “Oi, that was a good one” he mumbled as he grew further. His spine cracked and he grew bigger until he reached almost 6”5’ and his grey eyes lost their colour and became a dull brown. With a last shot and a deep scream, Giles’ mind was gone and he collapsed.

    Something wet hit his face. As he opened his eyes, Fang was standing above him and wagging happily. Gone was Giles Fredston. Rubeus Hagrid gave his cock a little pat and got clothed to walk his dog around the forest. While putting on his well-used boxers he felt freer and more relaxed than he had been for a very long time.

    Hey tf-fans! I so sorry for not writing, posting and answering here. Real life is quite hard at the moment. Some of you might recognise this story, it was my very first story I wrote on this blog. With this one, I almost redone every old story.

    I hope you still like it. Please feel free to submit your ideas or wishes for tf stories. My ask box and dms are open - I just maybe need some time to answer. But I really appreciate your messages! <3 Have fun and stay safe!

    Comrade-in-arms

    A commission I got from @writer-ofstuff​, involving Derek from Teen Wolf,kinks warning: Feet and musk.

    ———————————————————————————————————

    Derek walked I to the new bar and grill restaurant thar had recently opened up in Beacon Hills. He was suppose to meet Stiles here for the two to have a date night, only Stiles was running late thanks to his shift at work going into overtime thanks to his co-worker calling in that they would be late.

    Derek took a moment to admire how nice the place looked, he glanced to the bar, heading over there to wait for Stiles since it was close to the door, that way he can look over the menu and decide what he would like to order once his boyfriend got here.

    He sits there alone for a few minutes, his attention focused on the menu when he feels a presence behind him. Before Derek could turn around, strong hairy arms wrap around his torso and Derek is pulled into the embrace of a large sweaty torso, making Derek shudder with surprise and disgust, his nose hit with a strong foul musk that makes Derek want to shove the random man away from him.

    “Drew? Why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?” Exclaimed a deep voiced man, sounding excited that Derek is his friend.

    Derek stands up and pulls away, looking at the guy. He has a short crew cut style hair cut, his muscles filled out his grey v-neck fairly nicely, almost looking painted on this brutes well sculpted body. His armpits are stained with sweat and Derek can see tufts of chest hair peeking out of the v-neck’s collar. He even has a few dog tags around his neck, making Derek wonder if he was in the military or knew someone who was.

    The man’s face was rugged, looking to be a couple years older than Derek with a good few days worth of scruff coating his strong jawline. His brown eyes made him think of Stiles’s eyes, only this guys seemed to be a lighter shade of brown, in the lighting at least.

    “Oh shit, sorry man. Confused you for a good friend of mine.” The guy apologies sheepishly.

    “It’s fine, really don’t worry about it.” Derek says. He doesn’t want to be rude, but Derek isn’t too pleased with this guy standing so close to him so he is forced to smell this guys strong musk. Derek is almost impressed with how strong it is given the fact they are in a restaurant and it is cutting through the smell of all the food, drinks, and other restaurant guests scents.

    “Let me buy you a drink as a apology.” He offers.

    “No, really that’s fine.” Derek protests, but the guy is taking a seat at the bar next to Derek’s bar stool he was sitting on.

    “Oh please I insist, I know it must be weird to get hugged by a stranger.” The guy says.

    Derek takes his seat, figuring he will humour the guy as he waits for Stiles, and it isn’t like Derek can get drunk for the drink so he figures he will accept the offer, down the drink, then excuse himself once Stiles gets here.

    “My name is Evan by the way.” He introduces.

    “Derek.” Derek replies, shaking the guys hand, he is surprised by how soft the guys hand is, a big rugged guy like this he figured would have rough hands.

    Evan orders them two beers, Derek taking a sip, and making a face at the bitter taste of it, thankfully Evan was distracted by his own drink to notice.

    “I’m sorry again for hugging you, it’s just crazy how much you look like my buddy Drew from behind.” He tells Derek.

    “It’s okay, no harm done.” Derek says, although he is still grossed out by this guys strong musk and the fact he can still feel the sweat the guy smeared on his back when he hugged him, which as it started to get cool and make Derek feel even more grossed out.

    “We were supposed to meet up here to have a few drinks, talk about our army days.” Evan says, pausing to take a sip of his drink.

    “Yeah, I’m waiting on my boyfriend to come here so we can have dinner.” Derek says, as to not be rude by just sitting there and saying nothing.

    “Oh that’s nice. It’s good to see other gay men in town. How long have you two been together?” Evan asks.

    “ A year now officially, but we’ve known each other for a few years.” Derek tells him.

    “That’s good. Drew and I were a thing when in the military. We went to the same boot camp and bunked together. At first we hated each other, argued quite a bit that got us in trouble with the Sargent. But then we were instructed to work on an exercise together, and I don’t know, something just clicked with us after that.” Evan paused and took a sigh of his drink.

    Derek frowned, wondering why he was starting to envision what Evan was talking about. He could make out a military bunk in his mind, the image of a young slender Evan in his mind, he could even recall someone arguing with him over something so minuscule.

    He even sees a older Sargent coming in, the sargent towering over both men in Derek’s vision, yelling at them for being disrespectful to the other cadets and themselves with all this pointless bickering.

    Derek rubs his head, taking a sip of his drink again and the thought flees from his mind, which brings Evan to telling another story.

    “When we got done with bootcamp training and later we even ended up stationed together. We were friends by then, we didn’t start to actually develop feelings for one another till we were stationed overseas. Of course neither of us acted on them, cause you know back then it was frowned upon and we were young and confused at these feelings, but then Drew saved my ass one day and well I kinda acted on impulse and kissed him, which I was so glad to when he kissed me back.” Evan tells Derek the story.

    He thinks how nice that sounds, he became so engrossed in Evan’s story he didn’t even notice he isn’t disgusted by Evan’s smell anymore. Nor does he realize that the sweat on his back as it began to traverse through his shirt, even sinking into his skin. The sweat absorbed into Derek’s body began to make it expand a little in size, his back growing broader, while his triskele tattoo started to fade away leaving behind unmarked skin.

    Derek sputters when he takes a sip of his beer. He gets another flash of a vision that matches Evan’s story. Recalling being on a army base somewhere, rooming with a bulkier Evan’s, Derek wonders why he is having these memory flashes like they are is own, making out the details of the bunks, of Evan’s and his voice, even recalling conversations they’ve had.

    He even sees an incident where he acts quickly and shoves Evan’s away from a small explosion that would have injured him, laying on top of each other, feeling Evan’s lips on his, how good it felt.

    “From there we kept our relationship to ourselves for a few years, in that time we discovered we were both kinky fuckers.” He laughs at that before he continues.

    “We were crazy for the other’s musk and sweat. Drew having some of the stinkest feet any man I’ve known had, drove me wild.” Evan tells him.

    “Of course he loved my feet as well, with how big they are he enjoyed the, around his dick, jerking him off.” Evan adds.

    Derek is confused by all this, wondering why Evan is telling him such personal information about him and his lover’s sex lives. Derek doesn’t care about any of this, he is disgusted by it in fact, and yet once again he can feel these memories creep into his mind, feeling a phantom touch around his dick even, as if someone’s large dorty feet were rubbing his dick.

    He hates how hard he gets from it, his face flushing when he hears moans in his head from the intimate memories he has of Evan and his lover.

    Derek’s too focused on his thoughts that he isn’t quite aware of the changes befalling his body. His muscles packing on bulk, making his toned well defined body surge in size with pure muscle thanks to years of training in the military and keeping it up with hard gym workouts.

    He can vaguely hear Evan continue on about his and Drew’s sex life back in the army. How wild and dirty it would get between them. Hearing the words Evan says ans then seeing those images in his own mind sends Derek into a lustfully state, he growls, turning to face Evan’s grabbing him by the collar of his shirt so the older man is facing him.

    “Shut up.” Derek growls, his voice getting deeper, he leans forward, pressing his lips over Evan’s kissing the older man hungrily. Derek knows this is wrong, thinks about Stiles, but his dick is so painfully hard in his jeans, and he sees this disgusting raunchy man in a new light, wanting to experience for himself what he envisioned from his stories.

    Evan kisses Derek back, his large hands coming up and cup Derek’s face, deepening their kiss. Derek’s stubble thickens into a fuller beard upon Evan’s touch. No one around them notices them, not saying a word as the two men make out at the bar.

    “I want you, now.” Derek growls. He doesn’t know what’s going on with him, grabbing Evan by the hand and dragging him to the back of the restaurant, the two men ending up in a supply closet. Their hands roaming over the other’s bodies, Evan’s hands making Derek even more muscular, body hair spreading all over Derek’s broader muscled torso from Evan’s hands gliding over his skin as they kiss.

    Derek pulls away from Evan, just so he can get onto his knees, he takes off Evan’s boots, inhaling the scent of them and the musky prize he has been craving.

    “Holy fuck look at your feet, they’d make Bigfoot jealous.” Derek blurts out as if this was common banter between them. He immediately sets to worshipping Evan’s feet, sucking on Evan’s toes that he can feet in his mouth, rubbing his thickly bearded face along the soles of his feet.

    Derek’s face began to ripple, aging up in years till he was around Evan’s age now. His facial attributes became more rugged and different than who he should be. If he were to look in a mirror he wouldn’t even recall who he was, because he doesn’t even look like Derek anymore.

    “Oh fuck Drew, you pervy bastard.” Evan moans and laughs. Hearing himself being called Drew makes it all that much clearer to Derek. It was why the stories Evan told seemed so familiar, they were his memories too. Derek recounting them even more clearly than before among other memories of the two men together. How they stuck together through their army days up till a few months ago when the two both retired early from the army.

    How Drew went back home to make plans to move out here to be with Evan, the two 35 year old men even planning their wedding next once they got fully moved in and their new gym they own and run now set up.

    Drew is sucking on Evan’s big toe once more, bobbing his head up and down on it, relishing in its musky taste and scent when he realizes what he is doing, how this isn’t right.

    “Stiles.” He mutters, pulling off Evan’s foot.

    “This isn’t me, I’m not the ex military guy named Drew.’ He says getting to his feet.

    "My name is Derek Hale, and I’m.” Derek doesn’t get to finish. Because Evan is putting the dog tags he was wearing around Derek, and then kissing him. Derek falling under the enthrall, relaxing into the kiss.

    “It’s okay now Drew.” He whispers against Derek’s lips, his hand groping over Derek’s bulge, the sensitive feeling making Derek come right then. His orgasm expels Derek’s old self from his mind, allowing Drew’s memories to dominate and take over. Drew snaps out of it, his clothing changing into a beige t-shirt and pants that are now soaked in his come.

    His beige shirt becomes damp and stained from his sweat. Drew looks into Evan’s brown eyes, smiling fondle at his lover.

    “A supply closet? Not that weirdest place we fooled around in.” Drew says teasingly.

    “How about we get out of here and head home, so we can have more privacy with what I want to do to you next.” Evan suggests. Drew simply grins, taking his lover by the hand and leading them out of the supply closet. Making a beeline for the entrance.

    “Excuses us kid.” Drew says when they walk by a younger man with messy brown hair wearing a flannel shirt and graphic t-shirt. Drew unaware how important thar young man was to him once before, getting into his truck with Evan taking a seat in the passenger side, the two military men lean over the console and share a kiss before Drew cranks up his truck and pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road, eager to get home with his love.

    Slow Down

    Ten years after graduating and being instantly promoted to the boss of the local water resource management facility, Giles still did most of the work he didn’t have to do because he had his assistants himself. And he would have to lie if he said he was happy. His whole life was about filling out paper work that he barely saw his family during the week. And he hated it.

    “I don’t get, why you’re still doing so many things by yourself”, his colleague and friend David said as they came back into their shared office after a business meeting. “You could have so much free time, Giles – and maybe some fun with that bombshell you hired last week.” Giles could hear the saliva already dropping out of David’s mouth as he mentioned the new accountant, Laura Fawcett. She was working very hard and was very nice to talk too.

    “I’m married, David”, Giles said dryly and opened the door to their office. “Wouldn’t be a problem to me – I mean, look at her b-”, David continued talking and was gesticulating the curves of Miss Fawcett as Giles decided it was time for a break.

    “Alright, I’m taking a break, see you at 3 pm. Remember calling Wodrow & Malkins for the new pipes”, Giles said, grabbed his coat and shut the door after he left the room.

    Giles took a walk through the corridor towards the cafeteria and enjoyed the silence. Of course, David was one of his best friends and usually he worked very hard. However, even after all those years together… especially after the started sharing an office… Only a few of his coworkers were around, most of them were in their offices after their lunch break. He did not notice where he was going, but after a few minutes suddenly stopped. Something was whispering his name. He must be hallucinating. Or someone tried to prank him. No, he said to himself. This wasn’t Highschool anymore. He was the boss. They wouldn’t dare trying something like this. Giles continued his way to the cafeteria, hoping he could grab some wraps or something else, but then he heard the voice again.

    Giles.

    It was one of his biggest fears after he saw a horror movie with a voice coming out of the walls, killing the inhabitants of the building one by one. But this was not a damn movie, it was his office building and nothing was inside these walls except steel beams and concrete. Giles tried to ignore the voice… she sounded quite nice. Sweet and lovely. He needed to know where this wonderful voice was coming from.

    After a few minutes of chasing the voice through the building, he found himself in the basement next to the locker room of the drivers and opened the door where he thought the voice was coming from. And as Giles stepped into the room, he was surprised seeing an old, big and very valuable mirror standing in the middle of the room. What this thing was doing here? Especially in the room that was flooded by old drains every few months?

    Carefully Giles came closer and looked at the inscription above the mirror, but he couldn’t identify any words. Finally, he wanted to look into the mirror and stepped right before it. Instead of seeing his slim, lanky self it was completely empty.

    I know what you want.

    The voice was talking to him again. So sweet, so lovely. Giles felt relaxed as he came closer to the mirror.

    Everyone’s wanting you to work harder. Everyone’s trying to push you around. You want a quiet life, without people nagging you, Giles, don’t you?

    Giles felt understood. „Y-yeah“, he stuttered. No more business meetings. No one talking to him about his way of working. A life full of happiness. That’s what he wanted. The surface of the mirror broke and white ropes wrapped themselves around Giles’ waist and dragged him into the mirror.

    Giles felt sick as he woke up. Everything hurt. An earth smell hit his nose. A cold shiver ran down his back: he was naked. As fast as possible, he searched for some clothes to wear. After a few seconds another smell hit him – a musky, irresistible, strong smell that made Giles‘ cock twitch. He took a deep sniff. Almost instantly he had a raging hard on and was totally lost in this musky piece of cloth.

    Furiously he began jacking off – not noticing that the little blonde stubble in his face was growing longer. He licked his lips. God, the feeling of the hair with his tongue was too much to handle. Coarse hair was pushing out of his face, while he was going up and down his shaft. Every thin blonde hair on his head twisted and turned and turned into a dark brown. Hair spilled down his scalp until it reached his trembling shoulders. With every heartbeat, his cock began to grow in length and girth until it was as thick as a soda can and reached into his bushy new beard. He felt his balls churning with seed that wanted to be free.

    The pungent smell that emanated from his cock tip was so irresistible that Giles took it in his mouth. He was circling his still growing mushroom tip. With each lick, his body began to swell. His legs lengthened, pushing him away from the wall before him. His hands grew thick and calloused. His whole body was itching like crazy but Giles’ mind was far away from his changing body. Like little needles, curly dark hair was sprouting over his body. Swirling around his nipples and growing thick on his balls. A few seconds later, his crack was a forest of dark hair. Curly tufts of hairs filled his armpits and crotch. Giles breathed in deeply and moaned.

    For a brief second Giles’s eyes shot open, realizing what he was doing, what was happening to him. Then he felt a huge pressure balls and with guttural gurgling his cock shot huge amounts of cum into Giles’ open mouth. With every shot going down his throat, his body began to bloat, losing his lean stature and packing on layers of muscle and fat. His butt swelled to enormous proportions to fit the underwear that he was holding. Legs and arms pushing aside from each other as the were filled bit by bit to become real man’s legs.

    “Oi, that was a good one” he mumbled as he grew further. His spine cracked and he grew bigger until he reached almost 6”5’ and his grey eyes lost their colour and became a dull brown. With a last shot and a deep scream, Giles’ mind was gone and he collapsed.

    Something wet hit his face. As he opened his eyes, Fang was standing above him and wagging happily. Gone was Giles Fredston. Rubeus Hagrid gave his cock a little pat and got clothed to walk his dog around the forest. While putting on his well-used boxers he felt freer and more relaxed than he had been for a very long time.

    Hey tf-fans! I so sorry for not writing, posting and answering here. Real life is quite hard at the moment. Some of you might recognise this story, it was my very first story I wrote on this blog. With this one, I almost redone every old story.

    I hope you still like it. Please feel free to submit your ideas or wishes for tf stories. My ask box and dms are open - I just maybe need some time to answer. But I really appreciate your messages! <3 Have fun and stay safe!

    Ignorance Is Bliss

    “Hello ladies and gentleman and welcome to the special edition of Ignorance is Bliss, the critically acclaimed gameshow where reality is not always as it seems!”

    I nervously tap on my contestant podium. The host stands metres away from me, reciting his perfectly practiced speech into the intimidatingly large camera. The studio lights reflect off his teeth and blind me. Behind the camera stands three bleachers, seating large crowds of giddy gawking audiences. Most of them are men. Just a bit older than me, I say. But what really caught my attention was the cube on the other side of the stage. A big one too. It’s like a glass room. A room without a door. What the hell could that be?

    The host smiles and waves his hands openly. He’s charismatic, I’ll give him that. I can see why people like his show. Though me personally, I’ve never seen it. I’ve heard about it though. Specifically through people on Reddit. Apparently, it’s a generic trivia show. Aired after midnight too, so the audience for the show can’t be too big. So, even if I embarrass myself on here, my dignity won’t be completely destroyed. I just have to answer a few pointless questions and then I’ll be rich. Shouldn’t be too hard. At this point, I’m broke, so I’ll take any cash prize I can get. Whether it’s $100 or the full $1,000,000, I’m not leaving here empty handed.

    “I am your host, Jimmy Clark. Let’s get right into it!” The crowd lets out a large cheer.

    “Our first contestant of the day is Atlas Green, an economics student at MIT. He’s a self-proclaimed maths genius, his favourite TV show is Survivor and he has never travelled outside of America!” The crowd lets out a light chuckle.

    I didn’t think they’d use my application as my introduction. We’re not even a minute in and my cheeks are already red.

    “Hi there, Jimmy.” I exaggerate my phoney smile for the camera.

    “So, Atlas, you know how the game works. Get a question right and you’ll be one step closer to our grand prize of $1,000,000.” The crowd goes wild as the figure flashes up on the large screens behind us. “Get a question wrong however…”

    The studio falls silent, anxiously waiting for Jimmy’s reveal.

    “You will leave here, no money, no grand prize. But don’t worry, here on Ignorance is Bliss, no one ever leaves empty handed…”

    I glance nervously at the audience. They had reverted back to their obnoxious cheering and shouting. Although, a part inside me is celebrating too from hearing I won’t be leaving without some sort of prize. But what kind of prize? That’s the real question here. It won’t be a $1,000,000 dollars worth prize, I can tell you that much. Maybe it’ll be a small Ignorance is Bliss trinket or something? I hope not. Though I’m curious about the loser’s prize, I don’t intend on finding out what it is. I’m here for that grand prize. I’m not leaving without it.

    “Let’s get started!” Jimmy beamed, the crowd screaming. “First question.”

    The rounds start off easy. As easy as you’d expect from a stereotypical game show. Current events, pop culture, geographical stuff. Though, none were particularly difficult, I can’t let myself get cocky. It only takes one royal fuckup and that $1,000,000 dollar prize slips right through my fingers. And the questions are definitely getting more difficult. I know that much. Now, the questions are delving into actors I’ve never heard of or countries I know bare minimum about. I just gotta keep calm and I should be able to do it.

    “Last question of the night!” Jimmy applauds me. “Almost no one has gotten this far. In fact, no one has ever won the cash prize, Atlas. Will you be the first?”

    “The final question of today’s show is…. ‘In Hinduism, who is the male God of erotic love, lust and sexual pleasure?’”

    I look towards Jim, then to one of the camera men and smile nervously. Weird final question. And what makes it worse is I have no clue what the answer is. I’m a young white student. Never left the country. Was raised Roman Catholic. There is no way I am getting this. At least not through rational thought or logical reasoning. I’m just gonna have to guess. I have a one in four chance of winning a million dollars. 25%. Fuck. That doesn’t bode well for me. One in four… one in four… okay. No point in delaying it.

    “Your options are:

    A) Vishnu

    B) Krishna

    C) Ganesha

    D) Rama”

    A timer appears on the screens behind us, ticking down quickly. I glance at all four options. It could be any of them. I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? I have to guess.

    “We’re gonna need an answer now, Atlas!” Jimmy warns.

    The timer continues to tick down.

    Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

    “3 seconds left Atlas!” Jimmy yells frantically.

    “Rama!” I shout. Less than a second left on the timer. But is it right…?

    “You chose option D, Rama.” The charismatic host looks towards the screens, waiting for them to turn green or red. “The correct answer is…”

    Time stops. I look at the screen. Waiting. One million dollars…

    Suddenly, the screen and studio lights turn a deep dark red. The words ‘wrong answer’ flash across the monitor. I feel my heart sink into my stomach. Jimmy emulates a sympathetic wince, letting out a condescending ‘awww’.

    “The correct answer is…”

    “Kamadeva”

    What? Kamadeva? That wasn’t one of my options! Was it a mistake? Or was the show rigged? I’m betting the latter. No wonder no one has ever reached the grand prize. They’re being lied too, forced take the stupid loser prize home. I was set up.

    “Hey! That’s bullshit! That wasn’t-“ I scream before Jimmy cuts me off.

    “Don’t worry my boy! As you know, no one goes home empty handed!” He pats me on the back. “Get over here.”

    Jimmy throws his arm around me, tightly holding me in place. He escorts me towards the other side of the stage. Towards the big mysterious glass cube. As I’m forced to approach it, a side of the cube lifts open letting mist seep out of it, like some kind of sci-fi movie. The intimidatingly tight grip of the host eases before he tosses me inside. As I stumble to the ground, the glass door behind me slams shut, leaving me trapped inside the glass cage. I scramble to my feet. The audience gawks at me. I feel like an animal in a zoo. Is this some kind of humiliation technique? Is there actually a loser prize? Or is this the loser prize after all? It’s a sham either way, that’s for sure. I begin looking for a way out but the cage is empty. Although, at the top of each glass corner, there are orange tubes. The tubes connect to the ceiling of the studio. God knows what’s in it. Maybe thats where the mist came from? It can’t be good, that’s all I know.

    “So Atlas! You lost Ignorance is Bliss!” The host announces. I can feel rage filling inside me. “But, no one leaves here empty handed! It’s time to announce your prize!”

    “You clearly don’t know much about Hinduism or Indian culture, Atlas!” The crowd giggles and whispers to each other. “So as your prize, Ignorance is Bliss is granting you a LIFELONG TRIP TO YOUR HOMELAND, INDIA!”

    The crowd goes wild.

    My clueless expression remains unchanged. Lifetime? Homeland? What does he mea- what the fuck? Suddenly, an orange gas is pumped into the glass cage from the tubes above, robbing me of clean air and replacing it with a hot suffocating warmth. I pounce onto the glass and yell for help. My cries are met with the audience gawking at me like I’m some kind of monkey at the Zoo. I try to avoid breathing the gas, but at this point it’s all-encompassing, giving me no choice but to take a gas filled breathe. As I breathe in, a strange feeling travels throughout my body. A strange pleasurable feeling. Erotic almost… I look down to see my 6 inch boner straining against my pants, on full display for the audience. I feel more and more blood rush into my cock. At this point, it feels as if my cock is hard enough to burst through my pants. I grab my boner with my two hands and then realise... never in the 22 years of my life have I fit both hands on my cock… one hand was enough to cover it whole. I slowly look down at my body. My cock… its growing. Inch by inch, I see my cock expand. As if I have a growing boner which never stops increasing in size. It grows and grows, straining my pants, until the tip of my boner presses against the side of my hip. The new cock, which fills my pants, suddenly stops growing in length. Instead, it starts thickening. My cock, which was just thicker than my thumb, begins fattening up, becoming chunkier and thicker. It grows heavier and heavier until my knees feel like giving out. Still adjusting to my new fat manhood, I take a step backwards, tripping. I twist and fall on my new fat package, causing the seams of my pants to burst open. My fat cock flops out, acting as a cushion for my pelvis to lay on. I pick myself up and sit back on my flat ass, my cock now long and heavy enough to still be laying on the ground. I panic, lift myself to my feet and turn around to the audience, displaying my new unnaturally large appendage. It hangs down between my legs, reaching my knee. The heat fills my genitals, more specifically, my balls. My balls, which looked ridiculously small compared to my new massive cock, begin to grow. Almost like a water balloon, my balls fill with hot potent semen, ready to shoot inside some fuckable ass. My new balls begin to appear proportionate to my unnaturally thick penis, forcing my legs apart to accommodate it.

    “Look how flustered he is, folks! That new big appendage of his looks like it could cum everywhere at any moment!” The host laughs, inspiring cheers from audience members.

    God… I’m so hard. The audience is staring at me… but that turns me on even more. They’re in awe of my Godly cock. My Godly Indian cock…. wait… no. Why am I thinking this? I’m not Indian. I’m not… gonna stuff my Godly Hindu cock into some pathetic white boy and impregnate his hole. Oh fuck! I need to stop. What’s wrong with me?! My average dick turning into a massive monster cock is one thing, but this is even more overwhelming. Not only have I lost control of my body, but now… I’m losing control of my mind. It’s as if the gas is seeping into every crevice of my brain, making my thoughts more lustful… more primal. Images of my fat cock breeding men assault my mind. Vivid fantasies which involve my thick sperm shooting into a big fat jiggling ass. I begin hitting my head. This is too much. It’s all too much. As I smack my head, attempting to knock some sense into myself, I notice something strange.

    I look down at my body. It seems to be… growing. My chest… its inflating like a balloon. The two muscles press against my tight shirt. They look soft. The kind of soft that would make for the most comfortable and fuckable pillows. I decide to feel it. I press my hand on it. It sinks into it, fat flowing through the crevices between my fingers. My pecs look like the most beautiful pair of perky fuckable tits. Is that what they’re making me into? Some big titted, massive cocked hybrid? Maximising femininity and masculinity on the body of one person… I panic that this will be my final form. A bisexual’s wet dream.

    This worry is soon subsided as I feel the growth shoot down my arms. My biceps triple in size, looking like the arms of a professional NFL player. My hands begin fattening up too. My fingers turning into sausage sized monsters. Each finger is as fat as my old penis used to be… I’m thankful that they’re still useable… mostly. I might struggle to use a keyboard or accurately press the numbers on my phone now. The fingers are fat enough to press multiple buttons at once, like some big brute. My stomach begins to develop abs. They form into six perfectly shaped mountains. I run my thick brute hands over them, feeling the calluses from my fingers glide over each crevice. The growth finally reaches my lower half. Thankfully, my massive cock and balls are unaffected. I don’t think I could handle them growing any larger. I wouldn’t be able to walk… The growth mainly affects my legs, feet and unfortunately… my ass. My two cheeks begin to inflate but not in the way you’d expect. Instead of an unnaturally large increase in muscle mass like the rest of me, my ass seemed to only fill up with fat. Like two water balloons, my cheeks grow and jiggle, bouncing and shaking around with every slight movement. The audience watches as my insanely fuckable feminine ass sways from side to side, preventing me from walking normally. I waddle. It’s humiliating. This will be on TV. My friends will see this. My coworkers will see this. My classmates. My family…

    Jiggle. Jiggle. Jiggle.

    My fuckable ass reaches its limit. It looks like two huge beachballs attached to me. The growth spreads to my legs. My thighs and calves grow, though not to an unnatural size like my bouncy cheeks. Their size is still nothing to scoff at. My legs look like two heavy tree trunks. They make it even more difficult to walk, or should I say, waddle.

    I look down at my new self… I feel weird even saying its me. My pecs… my ass… my muscles.. I don’t resemble the skinny economics student who entered this studio an hour ago. I don’t look like me. I look like some dumb fuckable brute. It’s humiliating. I watch the crowd laugh and cheer at me. The new me. Mocking my waddling. Flexing their biceps, which were nothing compared to mine. Bouncing their pecs, which looked nothing like my big fuckable tits. I even glance at one guy in the second row who is fingering his hairy straight ass, letting out a jokingly high feminine moan.

    “Do you feel like an Indian God, Atlas?!” The host laughs, his voice booming through the entire studio. “No? Let us help with that!”

    The host clicks his fingers causing the gas to become noticeably more intense. It pumps the orange transformation gas into the glass cage at a higher rate than before, forcing me to inhale even more than before. I look down at my huge body, anticipating what could happen next. What is there left to change? The gas already inflated every part of my once skinny body. It elongated my cock, inflated my ass. What more could this smelly gas possibly do? How much more humiliating could this become?

    I glance down at my thick forearm to realise something… it seems hairier than before. The hair seemed different too. Well, at least it looked different. Instead of my normal weak arm hairs, this new hair is noticeably thicker, like a wolf’s pelt. I never remember my arm hair being so dark. I assume it must be the gas again. I look at my body, realising my arms aren’t the only part of my body sprouting in thick hair. My chest has too. My once hairless chest now sprouts a thick sweaty pelt of hair. My legs seem to have adopted the wet pelt too. My armpit hair also seems more thick, although that’s the least of my worries right now. My face begins to itch. I reach up with my hairy paws and scratch it. My face feels fully bearded. My eyebrows are significantly more bushy too. Untrimmed. As if they had never seen a tweezers in their life.

    I glance beside me to see a man standing on the other side of the glass. He stares at me, watching my transformation. He has dark skin. Beautiful dark skin. It glistens with sweat. I could almost smell his stench from here. He continues to stare at me. He looks confused. Confused and dumb. Very dumb. His jaw hangs agape, breathing strictly through his mouth. His forehead is very pronounced. His eyes are vacant. As if he had no brain. Couldn’t form a single thought of his own. Drool dribbles out the side of his mouth. It gathers in his beard as he dumbly chuckles at me. He looks like he’s only good for one thing: fucking. He continues to stare at me. Dumbly. Vacantly. Confusedly. I reach up and scratch my beard… he does the same. I tilt my head to the side… he does the same. I grab my juicy fuckable big pecs… he does the same. I stumble back in shock. It hit me. All at once… the smelly stench… the big pecs… the huge muscles… juicy pecs… fat cock and fuckable ass… it’s… me.

    The man… the one staring back at me… my reflection… his… his skin. His deep dark beautiful brown skin. It’s mine. Gone was my caucasian skin. Gone were my caucasian features. The show completely changed me. It changed me into some big, dumb, fuckable, Indian brute…

    “There we have it ladies and gentleman! Our sex God, Kamadeva!” The crowd screams in awe. I gaze into the crowd, displaying my new Godly form. I see men jerking each others cocks while looking at me. Even some fingering their holes chanting my name. I am… a sex God.

    “That’s it for today’s show, folks. Tune in next time to see what happens to our next contestant!” The crowd screams and cheers. “This has been Ignorance is Bliss. Goodnight!”

    The lights and camera shut off. Members of the crowd pull up their pants and make their way out of the studio. The host walks over to my glass cage and chuckles. I adjust to my new weight. He stares at the Indian God in front of him.

    “Don’t worry, Kamadeva. We’ll have you shipped off to India in no time.” He smirks. “Soon, all of this will be just a distant memory…”

    “प्लीज मेरा सुराख भर दो। मैं बहुत हॉर्नी हूं” I mutter.

    ———————————————————————

    And so, Atlas will live out the rest of his life in Mumbai as the Indian sex God, Kamadeva.

    Reviews conclude he definitely lives up to his name. He puts both his massive cock and fuckable ass to good use, providing pleasure to men all over India. He lets men cum up his big juicy wobbling ass and he also breeds every man with a bubble butt that he sees, making the most out of his Godly body.

    The man has no memory of his life in the US. To Kamadeva, he was always Indian. He was always a sex God. He was always a dumb fuckable brute with a low IQ. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

    As Ignorance is Bliss promised, he definitely didn’t go home empty handed…

    A Dead by Daylight short story using David and Dwight.

    Dwight had wished he and David could get closer, but being stuck in the Entity's realm there really wasn't much time to properly form a bond with someone, especially with a guy you were having feelings for.

    He should have realized not to wish for something more with David while in one of the Entity's trials. Because when Dwight saved David from the hook the two men lost their balance and fell. David sprawled on top of Dwight with neither man able to move enough to get off of one another.

    The pair then get covered in a dark light, the two men confused and don't know what to do when they are then absorbed intomeach other. Merging together to become a new man.

    The man the two make up gets tomhis feet, a glazed hollow look in his eyes while his mind forms a mixture of memories from the two men who know make him up.

    Building Security

    Words by Aardvark and Mad Dog
    Illustrations by BigBerserk

    Twitter | Transform Me Into My Characters

    “Uh, it’s under Lucas. Braden Lucas.”

    The security guard behind the desk looked at Braden, then back to his computer. “Don’t see you here. No one under Braden.”

    “No, no, my first name is Braden. Last name Lucas.”

    The guard seemed befuddled by this. He typed something, furrowed his brow, then walked over to another guard a few feet away. They walked back together and both began pointing at the screen.

    “I’m here every week, my dad works upstairs,” Braden explained. “A lot of the guards know me but I guess you’re new.”

    “We can’t let anyone go upstairs without ID,” the other guard explained.

    “I don’t have a driver’s license. That’s why I come here on Fridays, so that my dad can drive me back to his place for the weekend.” Braden huffed a long sigh and dropped his school backpack onto the floor. “Can you call him? This happens a lot.”

    “He needs to register you in the system before we can let you up.”

    “I know, I know all the rules. He always forgets.”

    The guards kept whispering behind the desk, then finally one turned and said, “Do you want to come to the security office until we get this sorted?”

    “Why would I do that?” Braden chortled. “Just let me upstairs. You can search my backpack if you want.”

    The security guards loomed over Braden, casting shadows over him as they both scowled over the shelves of their pecs at him. One of them was bald with a thick red beard and looked as wide as three Bradens stacked side by side, while the other was a Latin-looking guy with an olive complexion and a dark goatee, with biceps that were straining the short sleeves of his dark button-up uniform shirt.

    "No one goes to the upper floors without proper clearance," grunted the bearded former redhead. "You can either sit tight in the office while we get this sorted out or walk back out the way you came."

    Braden rolled his eyes. Why did muscleheads have to act like they got to boss everyone else around? He was a teenage boy and this was your average office building, not the Pentagon or whatever. He was used to the security at the building being a bit disorganized, but this was the first time he'd been flat-out refused to go up to see his dad. These guards were new. He was used to the doughy, over-the-hill guys that liked to sit around, eat doughnuts and pretend like they weren't watching sports on their smartphones while they waved people in. These guys had some kind of unfamiliar logo on the breast of their shirts, which were taut against pecs that were bigger than Braden's head.

    "Fine, fine, but you guys are overreacting. My dad's gonna hear all about this," Braden pouted, surprised as the olive-skinned hulk grabbed him by his shoulder and escorted him away from the elevators, around the side to a nondescript door he'd never noticed before. “So...you a bodybuilder or whatever?”

    The guy nodded as he scanned his keycard against a black panel by the door.

    “Isn’t that really expensive? All that food and…” Braden caught himself before he said ‘steroids’. “...other stuff.”

    The guard shrugged, and the button over his chest undid itself. “Nothing I’d rather spend my money on. You can sit down there.” He pointed to a plastic chair in the corner. The security office was what Braden expected: laminated floor, white walls with nothing on them, a desk, a computer, and a bunch of TVs showing security footage from around the building.

    “You guys only have eight cameras in the whole building?” Braden asked, counting the television monitors.

    “That’s just one part of the lobby. Rest of ‘em are in a different room. This is mostly so we can see what’s happening at the desk in case we’re needed while on break.” The guard bent over and typed something into the computer, his ID badge dangling off his pec close enough for Braden to see the name ‘Luis.’

    “So even while you guys are on break, you’re not really on break.”

    “If we’re needed we’re needed. Bad guys don’t give a shit if you’re on break or not.”

    Braden almost laughed but didn’t. ‘Bad guys,’ like it was the wild west. The worst thing these guys had to deal with was lost visitors like him, or a wayward delivery boy.

    "You, uh, get many bad guys around here?" he asked, trying to keep himself from cracking up at the self-seriousness these musclebound brutes seemed to have.

    "Every now and then. Got some people who walk in from the street trying to cause a fuss that we make sure take a hike," Luis explained, his glutes pressing up against the dark slacks of his uniforms pants, the seat looking like it might split at any moment due to the mass of his glutes, before he straightened back up and pointed at the folding chair in the corner. "Sit there while we call up and straighten this out, kid," he rumbled.

    "Okayyyyy..." Braden said, arching an eyebrow as he walked over to the chair and sat down. They were just going to leave him in here? He could just leave after they left and sneak over to the stairwell or something and take the elevators from the second floor.

    Luis shot Braden a disapproving frown as he closed the door behind him, leaving Braden alone in the room. It was then that Braden heard a clicking sound that made his stomach drop. Did they just lock the door? They were going to lock him in here?! He bolted out of his seat and ran up to the door, attempting to turn the knob, only to feel it unable to budge.

    "HEY! Hey, let me out! You can't just lock me up, I didn't do anything wrong!" he shouted, banging his small fists on the door to no avail. “This is so STUPID.” He grabbed his phone from his bag to text his dad, but the blue loading bar wouldn’t complete. No service. An attempt at calling met the same fate, so he walked over to the phone on the desk and grabbed it.

    “Please dial your party’s extension,” said an automated voice, and Braden groaned. The phone was internal only and he didn’t know his dad’s office number, just his cell phone. He hung the phone back up and sat in the desk chair, spinning around out of boredom, until he got the idea to log into the security computer. If they were gonna lock him in here - which he was pretty sure was illegal - he wasn’t going to feel bad about messing with their shit.

    There was a piece of paper poking out from below the keyboard. Lifting up the keys, he found a post-it on which was handwritten:

    whaynes
    cash&liam

    “Super secure,” Braden chortled, logging right into the system with the username and password. A ton of windows auto opened, but one caught Braden’s attention: “NEW BADGE ACTIVATION.” He navigated to it and saw what appeared to be the option to print an access badge, so he typed in his name - Braden Lucas - and date of birth, and a number was randomly generated.

    ‘Upload picture’ was the next instruction, so Braden used the computer’s camera to take a selfie of himself, cropping it to show only his cherubic young face with an impish grin spread across it.

    “Supervisor approval required.” Braden tried the whaynes log-in again...and couldn’t believe it worked. “Aaand, print.” Braden hit the button and waited. He expected a computer printer to spit out some paper, but instead an apparatus next to the computer came to life. As it whirred, Braden noticed the words START DATE below his picture, which were auto populated with the day’s date.

    “Oh shit.” This wasn’t to print a guest pass, he realized as the whirring machine slowly produced a small plastic card. This was to make a staff badge.

    Braden took it, the badge still warm from the printer. It still might be useful to take it. He took one of the clips from a nearby holder and attached it to a hole in the new badge and clipped it onto the neck of his t-shirt and giggled. He looked over at the security camera and saw Luis waddling back to the bald mustachioed security guard and told him something that made the other guy's serious visage break into a smile as he started laughing. Apparently he'd said something funny, which Braden thought was unlikely. Both men had seemed pretty humorless. Maybe Luis had told him he'd locked Braden up in the office and that's what the brute thought was so funny? Braden grunted in annoyance at that, his hands resting on the keyboard starting to spread out as they took up more space.

    As his knuckles crackled, Braden combed through the security programs and found another that interested him: “Visitor Registration List.” Luis hadn’t been able to find his name, so Braden searched for himself in the day’s log. No results, so Dad really had forgotten to register him. “Stupid,” Braden mumbled. He right clicked his name to search for it through the months of logs, so he could prove to Luis and the bald guy - what was his name...Keith, that was it - that he visited all the time. But there were no results. Braden double-checked the spelling to make sure he hadn’t made a typo, but nope, zero hits for Brade Lucnas. He couldn’t believe it. This entire time they were just letting him up without his dad ever registering him. Not only was it upsetting to him that Dad hadn’t bothered ONCE, but he was surprised at the lax attitude of the guards, letting him in week after week. It was amazing it had taken until today to catch the error. Brade had thought Luis was doing his job incorrectly, but instead he was the only one doing it right. “I owe him an apology,” Brade muttered.

    Brade decided if he was going to sit around while this whole security thing was solved, he could at least entertain himself by looking at the security cameras. There was the one he'd already seen with Luis and Keith stationed by the front doors, screening people coming into the building, and he looked at that for a few minutes. The two seemed to really take their post seriously, stopping everyone one by one on their way into the building, making them scan their badges or looking them up in the visitor list. That made Brade smirk in satisfaction for reasons he couldn't articulate.

    He moved on to other cameras, his fingers nimbly moving around the keyboard despite their growing thickness and length, his palms growing meatier, his wrists getting thicker and his forearms starting to swell. His hands seemed to know their way around this computer system as his eyes scanned over each camera feed, looking for anything interesting... or unusual. It would be bad if something slipped by the two officers.

    And then he saw it. There was a lady stuck behind two of the stiles, scanning her card over and over. While Luis was helping her and Keith was checking someone in, another stile was stuck open - the one that the lady was accidentally scanning her card in without realizing it. A guy with a handcart walked through it without checking in or scanning.

    Brade hopped up, proud of himself for spotting it. He walked over to the door and pulled on it, remembered he was locked in, and grabbed a keyring hanging from his belt. Though something in his head told him it was odd that he had a key to this door, he’d worry about that in a second, once he got the delivery guy to check in. He unlocked himself and walked through the elevator bank, toward the guy with the cart who was waiting on an elevator. “Hey there,” he said casually to the man, who looked at him.

    “Hey,” the guy said, looking down.

    “You uh...you didn’t check in. You’re s’posed to do that up front.” Brade stuck his beefy hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet.

    “Oh, yeah, one of the gates was stuck open. No big deal. I’m here all the time, just dropping off some late mail for Klein & Grant upstairs. They know me.”

    “Yeah, well,” Brade said, gulping, “I’m security and I don’t know you.”

    “You’re security?” the guy laughed. “Then please don’t tell on me, okay little buddy?”

    Brade's brow furrowed and he felt his temperature rising. "I'm not your 'little buddy,'" he growled, not noticing how his upper arms were starting to swell now, drawing the sleeves of his t-shirt taut as they filled with brawn. "You're gonna turn around and check in like you're supposed to," he said in a calm but serious voice, his blood boiling in his veins despite the calm demeanor he tried to project.

    The guy looked down at Brade and snorted. "Kid, chill out, okay? Earn a merit badge some other time," he told him dismissively, turning away and continuing to wait for an elevator.

    A vein started throbbing on his forehead. This guy wasn't gonna act like this. Not in his building. He felt his sleeves ride up over his swelling deltoids, his shirt felt inadequate over his arms that looked ridiculously oversized for his small frame, hands that looked like they could palm his entire face. He used one of those hands to grab another key from his ring, which he stuck into the elevator panel to reset the button. “You’re not going without checking in, BUDDY,” he said.

    “Are you seri-- come ON, kid.” The guy sighed. “Can I at least leave my shit here?”

    “No! You crazy? That’s gotta be scanned. If you’re really here so much you know the ru-OOU-les.” Bralde’s voice cracked just like it did while he was in chorus at school, pitching up an octave, down two, then back to normal.

    “Gettin’ bossed around by a pubescent kid, Jesus,” the guy muttered, wheeling his cart away.

    Bralde felt triumphant. He tailed a few yards behind the guy to make sure he was going where he was supposed to go, then he sidled up next to Keith. “Caught that guy trying to sneak past,” he said proudly.

    “Good work man,” Keith muttered, then he looked over at Bralde. “You...hey, aren’t you supposed to be in the office while we call your dad?”

    It hadn’t even dawned on Bralde. He felt like he’d been slapped out of a trance. “Oh, I...oh right…”

    Keith's mustache twitched into an annoyed angle just before he grunted, "Let's get you back to the office. Can't leave you alone for five minutes..." He put his big paw of a hand on Bralde's shoulder and started walking him back to the security office as fast as his overblown thighs could carry him.

    During the brief walk, Bralde looked over and up at the herculean security officer, easily a match for Luis' mass. "So both you guys are bodybuilders, huh?" he asked, not sure why. He just figured talking to them about their interests might keep them from getting pissed at him and completely throwing him out of the building.

    "Yeah when we're not babysittin' at this gig," Keith's terse reply came.

    "I could tell. Your, um, legs look really big. What do you do to get them so big?" Bralde asked, still trying to engage this brute next to him.

    Keith's waddle slowed a bit as he looked down at Bralde with an arched eyebrow. "You do squats with heavy weights, kid. You look like you could use a few, you’re all arms," he grunted with a chuckle, giving the side of one of Bralde's gorilla arms a thwack with the back of his hand. It was solid.

    Bralde instinctively wrenched his arm away, like he did when the bigger guys at school picked on him. But this time, the pre-existing strain on his t-shirt - thanks to his bicep - was enough to rip his sleeve, allowing his bicep and deltoid to pump a bit bigger into the air around them. Bralde stopped cold, causing Keith to bump into him as he inspected his torn sleeve and the oversized muscles in his arm. He gripped his bicep with his hand, and that was when he noticed his sausage-sized fingers and the broad, thick palms they were attached to. “Th-that’s not righ-”

    “Move it along, bud,” Keith said, goosing Bralde forward as the boy continued to run his fingers over his thick arms. “Nice watch though.”

    Bralde looked at the gleaming timepiece on his wrist. It had a two-toned band made of real gold and silver, with a shiny blue face. Aside from the time itself, he had no idea what any of the other little dials meant, but they sure were pretty. All that gold and blue. The watch was heavy too, which meant it was probably expensive right? “Thanks, it was a gift.”

    “Someone must like you a lot.”

    “SomeoneS,” Bralde smiled, lowering his arm and not noticing the pelt of hair swirling out from the watch, bristly up his smooth forearm and down over the back of his hand. He even scratched at his upper arm as it sprouted a light covering, leading like a fuse to his underarm, which sprouted a dense puff of hair that erupted out from his ruined sleeve. As Keith opened the door to the office, Bralde turned to him, smiling. “What are we here for again?”

    “This is where you belong while you wait for your dad, kiddo. We’ve called him three times.”

    “Oh right. I keep forgetting.” Bralde snorted. “Mind’s all funny today, I guess.”

    "Don't let me catch you outta here again before yer dad comes," Keith warned him, wagging an index finger in his direction before closing and locking the door behind Bralde again.

    Bralde was too busy marveling at his arms to notice, however. His jaw was slack as he examined the hairs swirling over his incredible arms. His arms felt like they were someone else's, except they moved whenever he gave the command. It reminded him of those old Hulk hand toys. He tentatively cracked his knuckles and he swore it actually sounded like cracking nuts thanks to his big fingers and meaty hands.

    He went back to what Keith had said, about his body being unbalanced. It did look pretty ridiculous, walking around with arms that belonged on someone way bigger and older than him. Maybe it wouldn't look so ludicrous if his legs matched? he pondered, forgetting his predicament and stroking his chin with his big paw. His hand could nearly swallow up half his face!

    He wasn't sure about all this muscle stuff, but it couldn't hurt to look a little bit more, what was the word, proportional? He remembered the comment about squatting so he went over to a wall he could lean against in case he lost his balance and tried squatting down. Instantly, his jeans became like sausage casings as his thighs ballooned. That wasn't normal, he thought, panic starting to mount. But his legs didn't look as ridiculous now, at least. His butt felt all swollen, too.

    Suddenly, he had a flash of a memory, walking down the hall to his dad's office and seeing the office numbers pass by. He wasn't sure, but he had a guess as to what his dad's office number was. Keith said they'd tried calling his dad, but maybe they weren't trying that hard. He went over to the desk, his pants protesting against thighs that were much larger than they had been when he'd slipped them on that morning, and picked up the phone, dialing what he thought could be the correct office number. "Hi, dad? It's Brallde," he croaked, his voice having settled a bit lower than before. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried again. "I... I mean, it's Brallade," he said again, in a voice deeper still.

    As Brallade rubbed his burning throat, he heard a female voice on the other end of the line. “I don’t think I’m your dad, sir,” she laughed.

    “Oh! I’m sorry…” Embarrassed, Brallade leaned forward to hang up the phone, and the motion was too much for his pants. They split right down the middle, baring Adventure Time boxer shorts that were also having trouble to hold in the boy’s growing butt. The twin spheres swelled underneath Brallade, pushing him higher on the seat like a cushion as they expanded in all directions, shoving into the chair’s armrests. Brallade shifted as he tried to get comfortable, and a simple flex of his feet pushed his heels out of the backs of the sneakers his mom had just bought him the week prior. His socks burst into ribbons as enormous calves flexed into existence on the backs of his legs, pushing so hard against his jeans that the blood flow was restricted. They engorged themselves with size as Brallade changed one digit on his dial and tried again. He was pretty sure this was right this time.

    He cleared his throat. “Hi, dad?” A rich baritone rolled through the office. “Your son’s in...I mean I’m in the security office downstairs.” Brallade shut his eyes as his feet pushed hard into the ground, where moments before they’d hovered above it. He coughed, and suddenly his voice transformed into a man’s bass, deepening well below Keith and Luis’. “Can you come down and get me?”

    "Sorry, you must be mistaken, I don't have a son," came the man's voice on the other end, quickly before the disconnection tone.

    Brallade growled in frustration and slammed the phone back down on its receiver. Any more force behind his action would've surely destroyed the phone, given the power behind his hands. He snorted and took in deep breaths as he fumed, a weakening voice in his head trying to calm down the tempest of emotions that were brewing inside of him now. Why hadn't his father followed protocol and put his name on the visitors' list?! If he'd just followed it, he wouldn't be in this goddamn room, growing goddamn hair on his motherfucking enormous arms and his butt wouldn't be so big that he swore if he tried to stand up the chair would move with him!

    With each breath, his chest puffed out behind his t-shirt, at first just pressing lightly against the cotton-blend, but then with more and more force, his pectorals swelling with his mounting frustrations, the plates of muscle becoming thick and swollen, a separation forming between them and the bottoms becoming a bit rounded, his nipples starting to point down as mass increased on his upper body, drawing his collar taut before splitting it down the center to make room for the growing mounds of muscle.

    Air activated their growth. As soon as the center of Brallade’s chest was bared, his pecs exploded in size with such power that it whipped his head backward and nearly knocked his chair over. The boy gripped the armrests and straightened his back with a loud, scared groan, and out beneath his chin swelled a pair of huge, fat pecs that were growing larger with each short breath. Muscle pumped into every possible centimeter to give him a full-on shelf, the top of the pecs as prominent and thick as the bottom. His t-shirt tore further and further downward, until the sheer weight of his chest pulled him forward, slamming into the desk like a pair of sandbags. Brallade struggled and forced himself back upright, furiously groping one of the sacks of muscle, unaware that each touch of his fingers conjured a dozen new bristles to his smooth skin.

    It got harder for him to fondle the pecs when his t-shirt snagged together beneath his nipples and manifested a single button to hold some of the tear together, hoisting Brallade’s enormous muscle tits upward like a Wonderbra. He pulled his hand loose and moaned, standing up, legs nearly buckling from worry. He held himself up with the desk as he made his way to his school backpack, hoping he could find something inside of it that would spur an idea. He really wanted to let himself out of the room again, but Keith told him not to leave…

    Brallade easily lifted up his backpack with one of his huge hands and opened it up, finding it filled with a tupperware container he had never seen before. He didn't pack food with him like this, he just used the cafeteria at school. It looked pretty plain, too: chicken breast, rice, and some veggies. Still, his stomach grumbled when he took a look at it and, finding a set of utensils in the backpack as well, decided to start chowing down. After all, if it was in his backpack, it must be his, right?

    He grunted as he shoveled each forkful into his mouth, giving it a few chews before swallowing it down, practically inhaling all of the food inside. What it lacked in very much taste, it made up for in vitamins, minerals, and, above all else, protein. His body seemed to soak it in like a parched desert. Each bite made his stomach bulge out a bit more, firm and solid, blocks of abdominals etching slightly into it as the bulk piled on, spilling over his belt behind his shirt as he gobbled his food, until a stomach as large and firm as his pecs pushed out in front of him, creating a worthy resting place for his bloated chest muscles.

    "Oof..." he finally moaned after a loud belch, reaching up to wipe his thick forearm over his mouth, the curls of the hair on his forearm catching against something new on his upper lip. He reached up with alarm and felt his upper lip becoming fuzzy, the follicles growing out thicker and longer, five o'clock shadow becoming a modest mustache... and then a much prouder mustache than that!

    “Mmguh?!” Brallade kept patting his mustache as it flourished beneath his twitching nose, spreading past the corners of his mouth and bristling down over his upper lip as it grew into a truly spectacular pushbroom. His fingers wandered to his cheeks and chin - there was no hair, but they were no longer smooth either; the skin was gritty and sounded like sandpaper under Brallade’s fingers. That did it...he had to get out of here, had to find his dad and explain what was going on. As he reached down to put his bag back on the ground, gravity pulled his muscle gut out further, rounding it into a firm ball that shoved out into the open air. Brallade’s pecs lurched forward another inch to compensate, resting comfortably on the belly as the boy found a post-it note and grabbed a pen.

    “Keith-” Brallade wrote, and he blinked in surprise as he realized his handwriting had changed - what was once illegible chicken scratch that his teachers gave him grief for, was now tidy block letters. “Emergency. Had to go upstairs to find Mr. Lucas. Sorry.” He initialed it ‘B.L.,’ Brallace Lacnes.

    Brallace locked the office behind him, keeping one hand over his face to cover his huge mustache. He skulked over to the elevator lobby, avoiding detection, and hit the button. Dad would be able to figure this out, he knew as he got on and hit the button for the 51st floor.

    The metal doors shut and confronted Brallace with his blurry, misshapen silhouette. His burgeoning muscles rendered the reflection unrecognizable to him, so he turned and faced the back of the elevator, which was made of white plastic and not reflective at all. Then he remembered something - he took the key on his belt and activated the security feature on the inside panel of the elevator as it began to move, ensuring that it wouldn’t stop for anyone else on the way up.

    The boy breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator climbed upward. But as the floors ticked by, he was looking much less like a boy. In fact, with each floor passed, another year was adding itself to Brallace. His face began weathering at an astonishing pace, as his skin notched years of wear in seconds, gifting him with deep crows feet and jagged, deep folds on his forehead and around his mouth. He sprouted upward, from 5’4 to 5’9, stopping at a height he still would’ve found disappointing had he realized, but that allowed his huge muscles to remain dense and thick, as if stacked atop each other. The white paneling of the elevator didn’t allow Brallace to see his thick hair lighten to pure, vibrant white, nor his mustache shift to salt-and-pepper, heavy on the salt.

    When he hit the floors in the thirties, his jaw cracked and expanded, hardening with manhood as it widened into a jutting square and capped itself with a boxy chin that stuck out further than his mustache. The floors ticked by as Brallace’s original face took on more new DNA, shifting from an older version of himself to an older version of a new man, handsome and rugged. His browbone shifted down over his eyes as his nose turned square and strong, lips thinning to hide further under his mustache.

    The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Brallace turned around, relieved to have made it without getting caught. A 67-year-old man stepped off the elevator, his white hair shaggy and long in a style unbecoming for his age. His boyish clothes were shredding to pieces over his massive bulk, which was still growing and changing along with him. And the boy within had no idea, though he did idly notice how much weight his steps carried.

    Brallace remembered once on vacation his family had gone to one of those places where you could put on those big fake sumo suits and bump around in them. That's almost what it felt like to move now. When he walked, he could feel his thighs rubbing against each other, and his hamstrings almost touching against his glutes. His arms were splayed out a bit by his lats. If he took a deep breath, his pecs shoved up against his stubbled jaw, making it shut. He could practically feel the world around him trembling a bit each time he took a step, his bulk so big that he instinctively felt that he'd be frightened of himself if he wasn't him.

    As he made his way instinctually to his father's office on the far side of the floor from the elevators, he began to feel an urge. "Aw, fuck," he growled, his voice sounding like two boulders grinding together. He had to go to the bathroom. He turned his massive body in the direction of the bathrooms on the floor and felt how difficult it was to change direction of this huge physique once it was in motion. He nearly toppled onto the floor, but managed to keep upright.

    He squeezed into the doorway of the men's room and went over to a urinal and reached down to take himself out. When he did so, his jaw hit the top of his pecs. He couldn't exactly look down and see it, thanks to the bulk of his upper body, but what he felt overfilled the massive grip of his hands. He felt HUNG. He was almost worried he'd dip into the water in the urinal due to how big he was hanging, and with enormous balls, too! After a second of shock, he relaxed enough to relieve his bladder and his stream was so strong the term "piss like a horse" came across Brallace’s mind. Even his cock and balls seemed strong.

    What time was it anyway? He checked his gold watch, which was nestled in the mat of black and white hair covering his forearm. A little after 4pm...oh, right, ‘cause he’d just gotten done with school. And every day after school, he’d take a little break to...take the edge off. Helped clear his mind and maintain focus for the rest of the day instead of getting distracted whenever a hot piece of ass walked by. Didn’t matter how old he was, he always had the libido of a young man. Which made sense since he was a young man, Brallace reminded himself with a chuckle. What an odd thing to think…

    His stream finished, but he kept his beer-bottle cock hanging over the urinal, wrapping his right hand around it and allowing his left to drift to his nipple. His nipple felt curiously huge too, and he didn’t know why it was pointing straight to the ground, but he rubbed it all the same, exhaling through his nose and blowing hot air down over his thick ‘stache. He stroked up and down, up and down, a smile spreading over his face at the same rate that black color was spreading across the tops of his sneakers. The mesh body of the shoe hardened into shiny leather, polished so painstakingly that the toes reflected the underside of Brallace’s cock and belly. The hi-gloss dress shoes grew thick soles that boosted Brallace’s height another inch, and his feet sank into comfortable gel inserts that instantly made him feel better, since he spent so much time on his feet. He was too caught up in his own pleasure to feel new black athletic socks stretch up to the top of his calves, far taller than he liked to wear them.

    He wore out plenty of socks thanks to his huge calves, but it was the price you paid when you were built like Brallace. Clothes just didn't last as long when they were strung tightly over bloated bulges of muscle that surrounded his body. He thought of the other week and how he'd had to toss a pair of his slacks because they'd worn down on the inner thighs from rubbing up against each other so much. As he remembered that, the change spread over his legs, the torn strips of fabric billowing back out, coalescing into dark fabric that clung to his quads and hamstrings, that had to work overtime to wrap around his boulderous glutes.

    He kept holding his huge cock, stroking it. Yeah, he needed this. It was like clockwork. He'd see a young thing walking down the street, maybe showing a hint of cleavage or wearing a skirt that was a little shorter than normal and that's all it took. He filed the memory away for moments like now, when he'd call them back up for service. Fuck, his libido had been more trouble than it'd been worth over the years. He always was down to fuck, to blow a load. He couldn't turn down an opportunity when it presented itself, and when you looked like Brallace did, the opportunities were plentiful. He’d fucked up so many times that when he needed some extra spending money, he’d taken an after-hours job as a doorman at a gay club, figuring that would get rid of the temptation. But that meant every night, he was seeing big bodybuilders - big bodybuilders who loved to flirt with him while he checked their IDs, no matter how tough he acted. They’d unbutton his shirt, tell him he was handsome, call him ‘Daddy’ and ‘sir,’ and they were so fucking hot and so horny for him that it was only a matter of time before he started taking home a hot muscle slut each night.

    Why the heck were they calling him Daddy, anyway...he was still in high school, after all. His OWN dad was only in his forties. Shit, Dad...he really needed to finish up here and go talk to his old man, remind him that it was important to register visitors and answer your phone when security was calling. So Brallace spread his strokes, his moans drowning out the jangle his keyring made when a new black leather belt snaked through them, hoisting his pants up higher, though the buckle remained undone since his fly was still open. A walkie-talkie materialized on his left hip, its static crackle echoing through the bathroom. Brallace’s upper body was bent forward and tensed, allowing his muscles to grow further through his torn t-shirt. Beads of sweat popped out across his wrinkled brow.

    Something... something was preventing him from climaxing. His brow furrowed and he grunted, trying to push through it. His thoughts wandered to memories of marrying his high school sweetheart, of fucking her like the powerful bull he was, making several strong boys as he worked for the police, collaring criminals, cleaning the streets, roughing up dirtbags before blowing off steam after his shifts fucking around with some of the cute wives in their suburban neighborhood, seeing one or two boys that seemed to have his eyes, catching the eye of a cute young thing at the gym and getting head from her in the parking lot after, his boys' teachers playing footsie with him during parent-teacher conferences leading to trysts in the janitor's closet. He felt a little guilty about them, and didn't blame his wife for eventually divorcing him after the kids were grown. He'd always been too much man for one woman... or just for women, as he'd realized after taking up that bouncing job.

    Yeah, different partners gave him different pleasures, he philosophized as he continued stroking his prodigious meat at the urinal. Precum dripping down his fingers and onto the tiled floor. Women were small and soft and it was good to be gentle with them and dote on them. Men were big and hard and gruff and he didn't have to worry about bruising a furry powerlifter as he gripped the back of his head and used his throat like a cock sleeve in the alley behind the gay bar.

    He didn’t mean to flirt, really. He had an easy smile, and that combined with his sheer physical size got him a lot of attention. His clothes were tight because he was so big, showing off his big package, his huge chest. He remembered his ex-wife’s annoyed sigh when his shirt’s top buttons snapped off in the car on the way to a parent-teacher conference, and his son’s teacher spent the whole time ogling the gigantic muscle jugs bursting out of Brallace’s half-open shirt. His son’s MALE teacher.

    Come to think of it, his shirt was like that today, too. More open than regulation allowed, but the top brass always looked the other way. Brallace liked the three-open look so that he could breathe more freely. His shirt was still completing its transformation into a dark blue short-sleeved button down as he looked down at it, but by then the changes had gone to his back where he couldn’t see them, as the fabric thickened into bulky polyester that could resist tearing. The buttons were large and taut, digging into his belly, the one at the base of his pecs visibly buckling from their weight. The points of his brand new shirt collar erupted up around his neck, and since he didn’t have much of one to speak of, the top of the collar fold almost brushed his earlobes. Even if he wanted to close the top of this shirt, he couldn’t. But he didn’t want to, Brallace thought, fondling his nipples. He loved showing off.

    He heard footsteps drawing near to the bathroom door, so with a disappointed grunt, he hefted his massive cock into his briefs and tucked his shirt in, buckling his belt and zipping his fly just as a janitor walked in with his cart behind.

    “Hey, Brallace,” the janitor said.

    “Afternoon, Larry,” Brallace smiled, getting some hand sanitizer from a dispenser as he headed for the door.

    “Growing your hair out?” the janitor asked.

    “Hm?”

    “Your hair. It’s real long.”

    Brallace’s long white hair hung around his face, but since none of it was in his eyes, he didn’t see it. “Nah. Always like to keep it short,” he said as he adjusted himself through his pants, his mustache twitching upward in a smile as he walked out the door and left the confused janitor behind him.

    “Now where’s Dad’s office,” he mumbled, trying to remember which floor he was on. They all looked the same but had slightly different layouts. It had been real confusing when he’d first started, but he’d gotten the hang of it pretty quick.

    It sucked that he hadn't gotten a chance to tug one off back there, but he knew he could always finish himself off after the task at hand, so to speak. Plus, it was kinda hot to feel his big prick, almost too big to contain, shoved into his slacks and feeling it squeezed between his two thunder thighs, he thought to himself, a satisfied smirk under his mustache.

    He decided to follow the room numbers to keep from getting lost, as there was a system to that. He liked systems, relied on them. It's why he joined the police after graduating high school. He liked order and wanted to enforce it. After serving over 40 years on the force, he'd finally had to retire - they gave him a real nice watch, which he wore every day - and he’d decided to go into private security. He was prevented from finishing that train of thought when he came across the familiar office number, with his father's name on front. He knocked on the door with his big ham of a fist. "You in there, Lucas?" he boomed in his powerful voice before opening the door anyways. He had authority. He didn't need permission to enter an office.

    He’d opened this door a lot, and it was almost always the same scene it was today: his dad in his office chair, back to the door, legs up on a small table by the wall while he talked on the phone. The only thing that felt different today was that the room felt smaller, which struck Brallace as odd. But he didn’t think much of it as he eased down in his usual chair, spreading his legs wide so his muscle gut didn’t rest on top of them. The chair’s legs visibly bowed as he maneuvered his bulk into it, but it held.

    The office’s TV was turned to some boring news show with the volume down. A counterterrorism expert was being interviewed, and though Brallace couldn’t hear what was being said, he watched anyway, reading the closed captioning. The man onscreen had short, thick hair brushed upward like the bristles of a toothbrush, and as Brallace looked at it, his own hair replicated the style, shortening and thinning into a tidy, regimented style perfect for a man who lived by the book. With the white strands out of his face, the strength of his bone structure stood out: deep-set eyes, rocky cheekbones, and a wide, straight nose.

    His father didn't seem quite as an authoritative figure as usual as he sat there, hastily attempting to cut the call he was on short. He wasn't very in shape, with a small belly that hung over his belt and a suit that wasn't very well-tailored for him. "No, I'll call you back, I have to deal with this," he told the unknown person on the other end of the call, finally clicking the end button. He set the phone down, took a deep breath and looked up into Brallace's eyes. "Any reason I’m getting a visit from downstairs?" he asked, his eyebrow arched curiously.

    Brallace stood up and walked to the desk, his belly and pecs arriving there before he did. “Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, and his voice’s reverberation in the room reminded him of how deep it was. His dad shrugged, so Brallace continued, “We’ve been - I mean, security’s been - trying to call you. No answer, so I just came up.”

    Misidentifying himself as security attracted a shiny gold shield to the front of his shirt. The pin materialized over his left pec, pushed slightly to the side by the mass of the muscle under it.

    “Sorry about that, I’ve been on the phone.”

    Brallace nodded. “Wish my men - I mean, THE men - downstairs had told me it was a busy signal.”

    Another misstatement, another patch: this time an American flag on his left sleeve.

    His dad shrugged again at that. "So you were trying to get a hold of me?" he asked, still wondering what the reason for this interruption was.

    "Yeah!" Brallace barked out, before realizing how strange it seemed to be so informal. "Er, yes," he said in a more sedate tone. "You... you had... a visitor..." he stammered, trailing off, a look of confusion on his face. He'd tried to tell his dad that he was the visitor, but the words had died on his lips. He couldn't make them form the words, couldn't speak them. This was silly. He needed to just force it out. "Y-Y-Your son!" he finally said after a pregnant pause.

    His father looked confused, too, but apparently for other reasons. "Well, where is he now? You didn't leave him downstairs, did you?"

    "I'm right here!" Brallace barked out again, sweating a bit. He tended to get overheated in so much clothing, especially when he got worked up.

    His father's eyes narrowed. "I know you are, Wallace. I'm asking where my son is."

    Wallace nervously straightened the name badge that had appeared moments prior on his right pec. “Well, I...my guys had him downstairs, and he was a real pill,” Wallace said, using a phrase he’d never heard himself use before. “He -- I -- got onto the elevator without being seen, I guess.”

    “Really tight ship you’re running here, Haynes,” his dad snarked.

    Wallace’s face darkened. “We work very hard downstairs, sir,” he said quickly, right sleeve now proudly displaying the building security patch that completed his uniform.

    “I know, I apologize, I’m just...aggravated, is all.”

    “Well, he can’t have gotten far, he must be right under your nose,” Wallace said, attempting to tap into his police experience as a means of conveying who he was since his mouth wouldn’t let him say it. “Could you, could you uh...describe him?”

    “Describe him? The kid you just saw?” Mr. Lucas said, but when he saw Wallace’s focused expression, he knew he wasn’t joking. “Uhm, fine, he’s white, obviously. 16 years old, about 5’4.”

    “Small fry, got it,” Wallace nodded, putting his hands on his hips and tilting them forward to push his belly further out.

    His dad was snapping his fingers as he spat out characteristics. “Blue eyes. Uh, big mustache.”

    “White mustache, right?”

    “Not quite. Used to be dark but it’s turned mostly white by now.”

    Wallace stroked that same mustache as he always did when he was deep in thought. "What about the kid's hair? How's he style it?"

    "Oh, he keeps it real short, he's a neat freak like that. Never lets it get more than like half an inch long up top," his dad said, describing hair like what was on top of Wallace's head now.

    "Hm, yeah, I know the style," Wallace replied, running a big gorilla hand over his own head, the stiff bristles meeting his calloused palm. He was lucky he hadn't gone bald like so many of his friends on the force. "What's he wearing?"

    "His uniform. Dark shirt and pants... the shirt has pleated pockets... uh, black dress shoes," his dad replied.

    Wallace chuckled. "Snappy dresser. Awright, I think I got enough to go off of, Mr. Lucas. The boys'll let you know if we find your son." He headed for the door and stopped, then turned around. “One more thing...he’s got grandkids, right?”

    “Yeah, two boys. Cash and Liam. Talks about ‘em nonstop. I’m sure there’s a lot more in his future, he’s got several sons.”

    “So that would make you a great-grandpa?”

    Mr. Lucas laughed. “Me? Nah, I’m too young.”

    Wallace smiled. “Right, yes, of course sir. And what’s his name?”

    “Wallace Haynes.”

    “Good solid name. Thanks, sir.” Wallace tapped his hand against the doorframe and walked out, his belly barely clearing the side. He lumbered to the elevator, nodding at each employee as he walked past, who all recognized him as a regular presence in the building.

    He’d have to tell Cash and Liam when he FaceTimed with them tonight that another guy had grandsons with those names too. He was sure Mr. Lucas’ son was a terrific grandpa, but there was no way that guy loved his grandsons more than Wallace loved his. As the elevator doors closed, Wallace once more expected to see a small, thin teenager looking back at him from the metallic reflection. Seeing himself as he was - a grizzled, huge man - stunned him. And the shock was enough to set the final changes into motion as the elevator descended back to the ground level, each floor that ticked by further drawing the former Braden Lucas into his new life as Wallace Haynes.

    Wallace's vision blurred for a moment, making him wince as he reached instinctively for the pair of bifocals hanging off of his front chest pocket and put them on, his vision clearing up immediately. He could see his belly and pecs gaining some finishing touches, rounding out, becoming titanic testaments to his dedication in the gym. Even though he was too old for abs anymore, he still wanted to show the boys downstairs that he could whip them if he needed to, even if both Luis and Keith were taller than he was. They were young enough to be his kids, so he treated him like his boys, using a firm guiding hand and stern discipline to keep them in line and doing their job. Well, there were a few things he did with them that he didn't do with his real boys, he reminded himself with a chuckle, reaching down to adjust himself below the belt again and feeling his nuts swell out again. Fuck, he felt ready to burst.

    He'd been running this security outfit for the past five years and he did a damn good job. He got good money in his retirement and that helped him live in a pretty nice house in the suburbs, where his sons and grandsons could visit him. Invariably, things led to roughhousing and so his decorating was spare, lest a vase get smashed from him wrestling with one of his grandsons.

    His habits as a bit of a heartbreaker and homewrecker continued, as the bored housewives in his cul-de-sac couldn't keep away from the big, strong silver daddy that had moved in and was more than happy to give them what they wanted. Honestly, Wallace felt he was living a great life. He had the family he'd always wanted and the freedom he'd always needed. He was too much man to be pinned down, after all.

    Wallace scanned his card and walked into his office, then stopped. “What the fuck?” Someone had been in there. There was a backpack on the floor, and dirty tupperware someone had eaten out of, which he quickly realized was supposed to be his lunch. “Goldilocks been in here,” Wallace muttered to himself. “So which bear do I punish…” He thought to the security desk...who was working today...oh right, Luis and Keith. Both fucking studs. Wallace sprang a boner as he thought about fucking one of ‘em.

    He was glad he’d been given an excuse.

    Want more hot stories and growing muscles? Contribute to my Ko-fi so I know someone's out there. Please! I love you!

    "Bro ... do I smell weird?" David wrinkled his nose, staring over his shoulder at his hairy back. He'd just taken a Fursona Potion for the first time, and wasn't sure what he was turning into.

    "Kind of," I said. I could smell a pungent sweat from my roommate as the fur grew over his body.

    "What am I turning into?" he asked. His face was starting to push out into a muzzle. As the hair on his back darkened, a white stripe emerged. A thick bushy tail was growing thick over his ass.

    "Bro, are you a skunk?" I asked. He looked so cute -- his ears had become round and furry, and I reached up to scratch behind them.

    David lifted his tail instinctually, and I was hit with an overwhelming wave of his scent. I staggered backwards, overcome, and then stared down at my own body as it began to grow dark fur just like his.

    Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: https://amzn.to/2zuzn1M

    makingrealalphas

    Ive seen your stories around for years and gotta say recently, your stories have been absolutely shit. fix that as a new years resolution for 2020

    No defense about this to be honest because I do feel like that sometimes. I have my bright moments and and not-so-bright moments here this year.

    I did plan to stop writing here since ages ago.

    But to be fair, I don't feel like my story style changed much in the past couple years since I have this Tumblr. It's like as if I haven't achieve a decent learning curve with my time here simply because I write stories one after the other not for payment (I don't see the need for me to do it and I feel I'm incapable to have things like Patreon or open for commission because people will expect me things when I write just for the sake of writing) or the betterment of its quality per se but simply because I stumbled upon a picture, inspired by it and directly write it down. There's not much thought on the posting or anything, it's literally "I see the picture-I feel inspired-Here's a caption-Now this is a post" sequence.

    So, apology if you feel like the anon too. Cannot promise much since I write simply because I enjoy it but I will see what I can do

    mainblogyy

    Hey anonymous, eat shit💞

    Reblog this, and let it be known....

    Reblog this if you actually want to be transformed...

    Reblog this if you are done with the old you and want to become a twink, or a jock, or a bear.

    Send me a message and maybe I can help you! It will take some changes in your lifestyle but maybe your requests don’t have to be fiction!